


Ghosts

by delicatelyglitterywriter



Category: Broadchurch
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Post-Canon, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Angst, Canonical Character Death, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-27
Updated: 2019-12-27
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:21:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21985801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/delicatelyglitterywriter/pseuds/delicatelyglitterywriter
Summary: Everyone has ghosts. Some have ghosts of guilt. Others, of grief. And some, like Lizzie Latimer, have late night chats with their brother's ghosts.
Relationships: Danny Latimer & Lizzie Latimer
Comments: 4
Kudos: 20





	Ghosts

**Author's Note:**

  * For [aucrio](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aucrio/gifts).



> First Broadchurch fic ever yay!!! Written for Alex for the Sad Broadchurch Gang Gift Exchange. Hope you like it, Flynn!! <3
> 
> Based loosely on the 'Dear David' story from writer Adam Ellis. 
> 
> Content warnings for mentions of death and murder.

“Mum?” 

Beth turned her head away from the show she was watching, peering over the top of the couch. 

“Lizzie, darling, you’re supposed to be sleeping,” she chastised. Lizzie shrugged, and Beth sighed, motioning her over. “Come over here, then.”

Lizzie obeyed, climbing up onto her mother’s lap. Beth wrapped her arms around Lizzie and stroked her hair.

“What’s bothering you? Why aren’t you asleep?”

Lizzie shrugged again. “Just got a question, is all.”

“What’s that?”

Lizzie turned her head up to look at Beth’s face. “Are ghosts real?”

Beth smiled softly. “Of course not, darling. They’re just something someone made up, like you make up your stories.”

“Oh.” Lizzie thought about it for a bit. “Why were ghosts made up?”

“Hmm? What do you mean, sweetheart?”

“Why did someone make up the story about ghosts?”

Beth didn’t answer for the longest time. Lizzie nearly fell asleep on her lap waiting for an answer.

“I think they might have been scared.”

“Hmm?” Lizzie turned her head up again.

“The person who made up ghosts, I think they might have been scared.”

“Of what?”

Beth sighed. 

“Do you remember when your Nana died?” Lizzie nodded. “How did you feel?”

“Sad,” Lizzie answered almost immediately. “I’m still a little sad, I think.”

Beth kissed the top of her head. “Yeah. Me too. I felt sad, too. But, with grown ups, we tend to feel scared when someone we love dies. And-”

“Why? Why do grown ups feels scared?”

Beth sighed again, and pushed her hair back. 

“I’m not entirely sure.” She paused, searching for the right words. “I think it’s because things have to change. You have to learn to live without that person. And for a lot of people that change is really, really scary. Losing someone also means that you have to be sad for a long time, and a lot of people are scared of feeling sad.”

“Why?”

Beth considered her answer again. “I think, when people get sad, especially grown ups, they’re more likely to do bad or dangerous things to try and not feel sad anymore, because feeling sad for a long time is tiring, and people don’t want to feel tired.”

Lizzie thought about Beth’s words. “So, the person who made up ghosts was scared?”

“I think so, yeah,” Beth said with a nod.

“Oh.” Lizzie thought again. “But why would ghosts make them feel better?”

Beth sighed again. “Probably to feel close to the person they had lost. Maybe the person thought that, if they believed the person who had died was still hanging around, they wouldn’t have to say goodbye, not completely; they wouldn’t have to be sad, or live without that person.”

“That makes sense,” Lizzie decided. Beth smiled at her.

“Ready to sleep now?”

Lizzie pulled her mouth to one side. “But what if someone sees a ghost, but they don’t recognise the person?”

Beth frowned. “Are you having nightmares, Lizzie?”

“No. I’m just thinking, if what you’re saying is true, then what about those people seeing ghosts of people they don’t know?”

Beth sighed yet again. “I don’t have a good answer for you, sweetheart. I can’t tell you why people think they see ghosts, and ghosts they don’t recognise. All I can tell you is that ghosts aren’t real, and that you don’t have to be afraid of them, okay?”

“Okay,” Lizzie conceded after a minute, nodding her head. Beth gave her a squeeze.

“Time to go back to bed?”

“Okay,” Lizzie agreed. She climbed off Beth’s lap and traipsed back up the stairs, into her room, where she shut the door.

“Well, what did she say?”

“She said you’re not real, that ghosts are just stories.”

Danny laughed, somewhat cynically. “Told you mum doesn’t believe much in the supernatural.”

* * *

Lizzie had first started seeing Daniel - or Danny, as he preferred to be called - shortly after her 7th birthday. She’d woken up in the middle of the night once, and seen him sitting on her gym ball that she sat on to do her homework. She’d been startled, and almost screamed for her mum, but he’d spoken first.

“Please, there’s no need to be scared of me. I’m not going to hurt you.”

“Who are you?”

“My name’s Daniel, although most people called me Danny. I’m your brother.”

Lizzie had heard of Danny before, and that he’d died before she was born. She’d seen some of his stuff Beth couldn’t bear to get rid of, and seen some of the tapes that had been recorded of him while he was alive. But he was dead now. 

“But you’re dead,” Lizzie had pointed out. “How can you be here?”

Danny had sighed at that. “It’s...complicated. The easiest way I can think to explain it to you is that I’m a ghost.”

That had intrigued Lizzie, and she’d sat up several hours, talking to him, and learning about some things grown-ups had refused to tell her. But Danny refused to tell her how exactly he died, saying she was a bit little to know about that, and maybe when she was older. Lizzie had pouted, until Danny had teased her enough to make her laugh. 

Ever since that night, Danny came to visit regularly, at around 8 o’clock, for about an hour, just to spend time with her. Lizzie looked forward to the times when he’d come to visit; she found him to be fantastic company, and it was nice that she got to know her brother. He seemed to like her company, too. But he’d made her swear to never tell Beth, saying it would just upset her. 

Lizzie kept her promise really well, but she honestly found it quite easy. She liked having something all to herself.

* * *

“But you are real, aren’t you?” Lizzie asked. Danny nodded.

“Of course.”

“Then why would mum say you’re not?”

“To be fair to her, she said ghosts don’t exist,” Danny reasoned. “She never said  _ I _ didn’t exist.”

“What’s the difference?”

“...good point.”

Lizzie sighed. “Why doesn’t mum believe in ghosts?”

Danny shrugged. “It’s a complicated, grown-up thing, I think; I don’t fully get it. But I think she might be scared to believe.”

Lizzie groaned in frustration and lifted her hands to the side of her head. “Why is everyone so scared of death and stuff?  _ What _ is there to be scared about?!”

Danny laughed. “Good question. I can’t explain to you why people are so scared; you’ll get to feel that for yourself, and understand it yourself when you grow up. But as for mum’s fear, I think she’s scared that if she believes, she’ll have to face up to the pain of losing me every day. I think it’s easier for her to let go and move forward.”

“But that doesn’t make sense. Why would saying goodbye be easier? Mum said that grown-ups are scared of saying goodbye.”

Danny sighed. “Grown-ups are complicated, Lizzie. I think a lot of the time, grown-ups don’t even understand grown-ups, and that’s why they say things that are in contradiction to themselves.”

“What’s that mean? Conta-dee-shun?”

“Contradiction,” Danny corrected. “It means...It’s like...opposites. Like how...oh what’s a good example?”

“Like how grown-ups will say ‘we’re leaving in five minutes’ but then take way longer?”

“Yeah, that will do. Sometimes grown ups will believe two opposites at the same time, like mum does - that it’s scary to say goodbye, but scarier to not say goodbye.”

Lizzie wrinkled her nose. “That’s strange. I don’t get grown-ups.”

“Me neither,” Danny agreed. “Not completely. I was only 11 when I died.”

Lizzie thought about his words. “Is that why they’re so scared a lot of the time? Because they have to be in cont...contede...have to have the opposite thoughts and things?”

Danny hummed thoughtfully. “You know what, I think you may be onto something there. It must be scary having contradictory thoughts or beliefs.”

“I don’t want to be a grown-up,” Lizzie said with a sigh. “It sounds big, and scary, and like a lot of work.”

Danny laughed. “Yeah. But you’re still a little girl. You don’t have to worry about any of that right now.”

“Not little,” Lizzie grumbled. The two lapsed into silence. Danny was the first to break the silence.

“It’s probably time you slept. It is kind of late.”

“You’re not mum,” Lizzie huffed, crossing her arms over her chest. She did feel quite tired, but she wasn’t about to admit that. Danny chuckled.

“That’s true, but I still know enough to know that you should sleep. Unlike me, you are still alive, and that you have school tomorrow.”

“You sound just like mum,” Lizzie grumbled. 

Danny stuck his tongue out at her. She stuck hers out, right back at him.

* * *

“Can you visit other people?”

“Yeah. But I like visiting you most.”

“Is that why I see you almost every night?”

“Yeah.”

Lizzie smiled at Danny. Danny smiled back. 

“Can you visit people during the day or are you too...thin for people to see in the light?”

“‘Thin’?” Danny asked, smirking slightly. Lizzie scowled at him, warning him to not mock her for her limited vocabulary. She was, after all, only eight. 

“You know what I mean,” she huffed. “Like, not quite solid. Thin.”

Danny grinned at her, like he wanted to laugh, but didn’t find it quite funny enough to laugh out loud. He leaned back and thought about his answer.

“Well, I  _ can _ visit people during the day, but because of the light, they only see me if they really, really want to. At night, however, I’m much easier to see.”

“How come?”

“How come what?”

“How come you’re easier to see in the dark than in the light?”

Danny opened his mouth to answer, and then closed it again. He tilted his head.

“I-I don’t know,” he admitted. “Let’s just say it’s a Ghost Thing.”

Lizzie grinned. 

“A ghost thing,” she agreed. 

They both sat quietly while Lizzie thought about what Danny said. Danny waited patiently for her to ask another question; he knew the look on her face, and it was her Curious Look. When she got like this it was best to just wait until she was out of questions and started talking about soccer or something. 

“Does that mean I could see you at school if I really, really wanted to?”

“If I decided to come and visit you at school, yes.”

“Oh.” Lizzie thought a little bit more. “Would you?”

“Sure. Could visit every Monday, if you like.”

“Why just Monday?”

“I have other things I can do aside from just hanging around you,” he pointed out.

“But I thought you said you liked visiting me.”

“I do. But I still do have my own life and gotta go do my own thing.”

“Don’t you mean your own afterlife?” Lizzie teased.

“Oh shut up,” Danny said, though he was smiling. Lizzie giggled.

“At night, can everybody see you?”

“No.” Danny sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. “It’s like in the daytime - people can only see me if they want to. It just takes more wanting in the day than in the night, but they still have to want to see me to be able to see me.”

Lizzie pondered his words. “So, you’re saying that, if one day I didn’t want to see you, I wouldn’t?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh.” A few beats passed. “Has mum ever seen you?”

Danny smiled a sad smile. “Yeah, once.”

“When?”

Danny stared past Lizzie in the way Lizzie had seen many grown-ups do when they were remembering something sad.

“It was one night not too long after I’d died. I don’t remember the exact date, but it was the day they charged Joe for my murder. Mum, dad, Chloe, and grandma, and I think one other person, went up to a hill that overlooked Broadchurch and the coast. There, they lit a giant torch as a memorial for me. Down on the beach, a lot of other Broadchurch residents were gathered to light a fire for me on the beach. 

“I remember watching mum hugging dad as the fire burned, and then Chloe pointed out towards the sea. I turned, and saw that one by one, along the coast, people were all lighting a fire for me. It was like Christmas fairy lights being turned on one by one. It was beautiful. I turned around to see what mum thought of it, and I remember her looking past the fire and seeing me. I smiled at her, happy about all the lights, and hoping that she might stop being so sad. I wish I had been able to speak to her, but to talk to a ghost takes a lot of wanting. She just wanted to see me, one last time.

“It only lasted a few seconds, though. I think it hurt her too much to see me again for her to want to see me for very long. She looked away and blinked and when she turned back, she couldn’t see me anymore.”

“But you were still there?”

“Yeah.”

Lizzie sat quietly, imagining what that night must have looked like. She couldn’t fully imagine it, but she thought she could imagine the fires lighting up all along the coast like fairy lights, and she couldn’t help but smile.

“How did you know she saw you?” Lizzie asked abruptly, as the question came to mind. “How do you know anyone sees you?”

“It’s just...a feeling, I guess,” Danny explained, struggling for words. “It’s like...you know when you drink a hot chocolate on a cold day and it’s like your whole body feels warm?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s like that. It’s that feeling of being warm all over.”

Lizzie smiled softly. “That’s a nice feeling to have when someone sees you.”

Danny smiled broadly. “Yeah, I guess it is.”

Another question popped into Lizzie’s head as she kept thinking. “Do you ever go and visit Joe?”

Danny hesitated. “Yes.”

Lizzie tilted her head. “But why? He killed you. Why would you want to visit your killer?”

Danny sighed. “It’s just...I just...I’m curious about his life now. I’m curious about the kind of man he’s become since killing me.”

“And?”

“And what?”

“What kind of man is he since he killed you?”

Danny laughed humourlessly. “You have a lot of big questions. How does mum ever put up with you?”

“The same way you do,” Lizzie teased, sticking her tongue out. “You love me.”

“That’s true,” Danny said and Lizzie grinned. “But I don’t think I can answer your question.”

“Too big?”

Danny smiled. 

“Too big,” he agreed. 

“Has Joe ever seen you?” Lizzie asked instead, making a mental note to ask the Big Question again in a couple of years’ time.

Danny shook his head. “No. He doesn’t want to. He’s too ashamed of what he did to want to see me.”

Lizzie hummed. “Has anyone else ever seen you?”

Danny smiled fondly. “Yeah, there was this one bloke, his name was Steve Connelly. He has this...ability to see ghosts and talk to them without particularly wanting to. The official term for it is ‘psychic’. He saw me one night when I was desperately trying to find someone who could see me - because it is quite scary being on your own in this new life - and I found him.”

“What did you tell him?”

“Not a lot,” Danny said with a sigh. “The rules for talking with people are different for family members and non-family members. With you, I can talk with you all I want. But with random people, there’s a limit of two questions a night and they have to call me Dear Daniel.”

“But why?”

“Three questions and they die,” Danny explained simply. “A burst of cold ‘death energy’ comes from my chest and kills them. I can’t control it. It just happens.”

“Has it ever happened?”

“No. But someone else I met in the afterlife explained how it works to me.”

“Oh. So what did you tell Steve?”

“I managed to tell him that I didn’t want the police investigating my murder, because I knew it would just hurt all the grown-ups. When they ignored him and what I told him, I managed to tell him that it was someone close to the family who had killed me. I hoped that would be enough for them to just walk away, but it wasn’t. I gave up on Steve and the message after that.”

Lizzie hummed again and processed the story. Danny waited patiently, hoping she was almost out of questions. He didn’t mind answering, but he did love talking about soccer with her.

“Do you think anyone else will see you ever again?”

Danny sighed again. “I hope so.”

Lizzie looked at him sadly and reached over to hold his hand, only to find that her hand went right through his. He smiled at her sadly.

“That’s not going to work. No matter how much you want to, that’s the one thing we can’t do.”

“That’s sad,” Lizzie murmured.

“Yeah. But it is what it is. Besides, I don’t mind too much. I still have the warm feeling of you seeing me, and that’s enough for me.”

Lizzie smiled sweetly and blew him a kiss. He smiled back. The two looked at each other for a little bit before Lizzie spoke again.

“I got picked for the soccer team at school.”

Danny lit up. “That’s awesome! What position do you get to play?”


End file.
